She
writes a political rant on Facebook
yells a lot
argues
yells some more
drinks coffee
calms down
deletes political rant on Facebook
opens Blog
and champagne
giggles
sticks to Blog
sex
sex writing
and the idea of love.

I do not like men who boast, who are aggressive, who have food in their beards, get into fights, treat women badly, have sweaty handshakes, miss the toilet seat, leave pubic hair everywhere, forget to use deodorant and kiss badly.

I do not like men who promise to call but don’t.

And I do not like men who tell lies.

The guy with the pink couch is none of the above. He doesn’t have a beard, he’s always immaculately clean, kind and super bright, and he has never lied to me.

In fact he has been blatantly honest.

‘I sometimes disappear for days, Violet. Sometimes for weeks. It is not about you, you need to know that.’

I said okay, that it kinda suited me, sure I get it, no problem, I’m a big girl, anything goes, no problem.

But now he has disappeared.

And even though I had said okay and even though I knew it was going to happen and even though I expected it to happen, I still dislike it.

And I mostly dislike myself for repeating patterns.

All the bloody time.

The pattern of falling back into the pattern of a yes / no / sometimes relationship. I have to remember it does not work for me. I am too soft. I am too sensitive.

And even if he says it is not about me, of course I think it is about me.

I deserve better. And I have to remember that. It’s the age old adage of learning to love yourself and I am not fucking sure how to do that and sometimes I think I do, but honestly, I don’t even know what that means.

But I am going to try.

So watch out gentlemen.

The next man I’m with gets to marry me.

There will be a wedding with a beautiful dress and flowers and cake and friends and love.

The other night I was chatting up my barman when a couple approached me.

Violet, can we go somewhere quiet to talk.

I was kinda enjoying the courtyard with the music and the moon but they both looked serious and I thought perhaps something was wrong.

They didn’t waste any time.

We’d like to get to know you, they explained. We’re polyamorous. Basically, we’re looking for someone else to love.

Jesus Christ, readers, apart from the fact that I don’t know the difference between polyamory, polygamy and polyfilla, what is going on at the moment.

I cannot get away from threesomes.

I looked at them. Got up, signalled for another scotch, sat down again.

I’m curious, I asked. Why me? What are you looking for? And yeah, again, why me?

They thought I might be lonely.

There’s just so much love in the world Violet, and we want to share it. Spread it around.

I tried not to roll my eyes or fall asleep while they told me about their lives and what they wanted.

They grow their own veggies, smoke pot,tie dye their clothes, oppose nuclear weapons, stand up for the environment, do yoga, meditate, rescue orphaned animals, and children, play the guitar and sometimes, take a little LSD.

More love would be good.

Oh my god, I thought, I am so not a hippie and also how would they ever even remember to include me in their busy hippie schedule.

I would not fit in. I don’t recycle, or do drugs, and I also like to love one person at a time.

I excused myself.

Thanks but no thanks, I said, and suggested they maybe start a communal vegetable garden instead of having a threesome.